From 2016, that is. A few leaves began to flare this August but somewhere along the way, our present fall stalled out, y’all. That’s not unusual, peak autumn here just might wait for November.
There’s this one spot high in the trees, a juncture, a jam, of leaves and pine needles. It’s threaded through by a gnarly old longleaf pine tree that lost all its branches in a storm long ago; only one side grew any branches back. Looking from the landing, there’s an elm tree and a sweetgum in front the pine, slightly to its side. At least two elm trees stand behind it, and twining everywhere, living vines sport fresh foliage alongside old dead vines. All this throws the light around and makes messy, complex tangles of effects in the canopy, most notably in the fall. This calls to me. It’s a part of the forest that grew untended, no thinning, no perfect shapes.
Ultraviolet took to editing right away. She came out of invisibility to tell me just what I can do with my light. Here’s she shines via photo editing, to fit in with the colorful season. Like the previous editor Bud, she wants to know why, if these trees are right outside the door, she can’t go out and climb them.
“Um … getting back down is not so easy for a kitty.”
“And I’ve heard water running in a creek out there, so why can I not go drink from it?” she meows. “A cat likes to take a stroll and drink far away from where she eats.”
“I know, it’s a behavior from cats’ wild days when they left prey on the ground that might spoil,” I say. “Well sweetheart, coyotes also drink from that creek. We’ve found their tracks there.”
“What are coyotes?”
“A sort of big wild dog, running loose. You may or may not have seen them in the city. Keep listening and you’ll hear them at night.”
Leaves make a splash
Getting away with a dazzle
“I hid from dogs in the city. So I get that part of it, sort of, but I still want to explore what’s on the other side of that door you know, my ownself. I know light, and I don’t mind telling you how to post your light graphs, but images just don’t do it for me. I’ll need some direct observation if I’m to keep sorting pictures. I’ll need to eyeball the trees and creek, climb to the canopy, and drink the water.”
“What if I open a tin and you can chow down now?” (I figure I’ll get her mind off the great outdoors.)
“I’ll wolf it down! Then I’ll go out and drink from that stream!”
“Um ….” I look at her and blink slowly. I learned that from our cats years ago.
(She won’t get to go outside, it’s too dangerous. I expect she’ll want to edit again regardless. Wishing for a catio one day!)